


First Day Jitters

by EASchechter



Series: On his Brother-in-Law's Secret Service. [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-12
Updated: 2012-03-29
Packaged: 2017-11-01 20:51:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/361103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EASchechter/pseuds/EASchechter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's first day on his new job goes nothing at all as expected. But when a Holmes is involved, what else is new?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

First Day Jitters

 

This couldn't be the place.

John knew that he was in the right place. Of course he was, with the black car showing up on the doorstep of 221B to take him off to his first day at his new position, complete with Anthea-if-that's-even-her-name-today in the backseat. She smiled warmly at him before turning her attention back to her ever-present Blackberry.

"I've always wanted to know. What are you doing all the time?" John asked as the car pulled away from the curb. She looked at him and smiled again.

"Words with Friends," she offered. John laughed and nodded.

"Right. None of your business, John," he said. She dimpled and looked back down at her screen, and John looked out the window. He had no idea where they were going. But that didn't matter. Today was his first day working under Mycroft Holmes, and he was sure that they were heading towards some posh office in some part of London where John would never have had reason to find himself.

He couldn't have been more wrong. The building he stood in front of was a warehouse, in an area of London that John wouldn't have taken money to spend time in if he hadn't been chasing around after Sherlock. As a matter of fact, he'd been here twice in the past month, once outside this very building.

"Here?" he asked.

"Yes. Come in," Anthea said, leading the way inside, into a large space that matched the ramshackle outside. Anthea ignored the litter and dirt as she walked across the open space, and John followed, feeling as if someone was watching his every step.

"There are."

"Excuse me?"

"There are people watching you," Anthea confirmed. "If you weren't supposed to be here, an alarm would sound. That usually chases away the addicts and the prostitutes."

John nodded, looking around as they passed through a door and into a smaller room. Same feeling, but stronger. No cameras visible, but that meant nothing. "And if they get this far?"

"No one ever has. But there are safeguards in place for the determined," she answered. Then she grinned. "Want to know what they are?"

John considered, then shook his head. "I don't need to know."

"Good answer." Anthea led him towards another door, opening it to reveal an elevator. "Come along, then. He's waiting."

John followed her into the elevator, turning to face the closing door. There were no controls, no buttons. The door slid silently closed, and the elevator started to descend. John thought about it for a moment, then looked over at Anthea, who had put her Blackberry into her pocket.

"The abandoned Tube stations?" he asked. She laughed, looking for a moment like a little girl with a new toy.

"I knew you were wasted on that clinic," she said. 

"How do you keep the tunnel-divers from finding you? I was just reading something about them breaking into the old tunnels."

"We're sealed off from the rest of the network, and the tunnels we use aren't on any of the maps any more," Anthea answered. "The work on these was done... oh, back before we were born, and by another organization. They disbanded in the early 70s, I think, but several of their upper echelon were responsible for our department."

John nodded, mulling over what she'd said, things he already knew. Stuff he'd learned from his...

"You're talking about U.N.C.L.E, aren't you?" he asked, and was rewarded with a look of pure shock. 

"How do you know that?" she demanded.

"My uncle. Well, by marriage, anyway. Funny, if you think about it. I had an uncle in U.N.C.L.E. He used to tell me stories, when I was a kid. Made me want to be a soldier." John smiled at the memories of his Uncle Mark. "He died when I was ten."

The elevator door slid open, and John was only a little surprised to see Mycroft standing outside, waiting for them. "How did I manage to miss that you are Mark Slate's nephew?" Mycroft asked, stepping back so that John and Anthea could exit the elevator. John fell in on Mycroft's left as they started down the tunnel.

"You know him?" he asked.

"I know of him," Mycroft answered. "Several of his colleagues now work in the department. You'll meet them -- they'll be some of your trainers. For now, let's get you settled. You may want to be prepared for a little... hostility."

"How so?" John asked. 

"There are some rumblings of discontent over the apparent.... nepotism," Mycroft looked at John out of the corner of his eye. "Your role in this department--"

"What exactly is my role?" John interrupted. They'd agreed that his actual reason for being here -- to guard Mycroft's back and find the link to Moriarty’s network -- had to remain between him and Mycroft only. "Not that I don't appreciate the work, mind. But I'm still not clear on why you hired me. I'm not a diplomat. I'm not an expert in anything. I'm not a secret agent like my uncle was, and I don't want to be. So why am I here?" 

Mycroft sighed, a bit theatrically, and stopped walking. "Anthea knows. This is... something of a high-stress position. I'm sure you understand that?"

"Of course," John agreed.

"I've had cause to worry about not only my own health, but that of my direct subordinates. Illness or injury in our line of work could be disastrous." Mycroft tilted his head to one side, and John knew what he was going to say before the words came out of his mouth. He ought to -- he'd suggested it only the week before. 

"You, Doctor, will be our personal physician."

#

They continued down the tunnel until it opened up to look down on a larger space -- what must once have been a station. Now, though, John thought it looked more like a small, underground city in some dystopian movie, complete with an expanse of ductwork arching overhead.

"Well, it's very... _Brazil_ ," he muttered, and heard Anthea sniff from Mycroft's other side. Mycroft looked at him, one eyebrow arched, and John had to restrain himself from asking if Mycroft had ever seen the movie. Or been to a movie. Or knew what a movie was. Apparently, the question was clear on John's face, though; Mycroft nodded once and gestured to a nearby staircase.

"I much prefer his stage work, personally," he said as they walked down to the main floor. "His role in _Miss Saigon_ , for example. Have you seen it?"

"Ah... no," John admitted. 

"Pity," Mycroft said. "Anthea, have everyone assemble in the conference room in half an hour. I want to introduce the Doctor to them all at once, and set up an interview schedule. We'll meet you there."

Anthea nodded and left them at the foot of the stairs, heading off into the maze of corridors. John followed Mycroft down another passage, and into a well-appointed office. Mycroft gestured to a chair, and took his place behind the desk.

"There is coffee and tea, if you like," Mycroft offered. "Now, how is he this morning?"

John smiled and answered, "A little put out that he couldn't come with me. Otherwise, he's doing better. The tremors are almost completely gone. There looks to be no lasting damage to the nervous system. He's spending today at St. Barts, going over the files Greg collected from Garrity's flat."

"Still trying to find a connection?"

John nodded, "He's convinced that there had to be some reason why it was those seven and him. He might be right, but Garrity didn't leave anything in his notes. Oh, Sherlock has another appointment with the physical therapist tomorrow, so I will more than likely be late."

"I was expecting as much," Mycroft said with a smile. "Oh, I'm to tell you that Mummy wants you and Sherlock to come to dinner Thursday next. She wants to discuss the ceremony and reception."

John snorted. "I'm not going to have any say in this, am I?"

"What you will say is 'Yes, Mummy,'" Mycroft answered drily. "Trust me, that is all you need to say." He looked down at his desk, and John noticed that there was a screen set into the surface. Mycroft arched an eyebrow, touched the screen, then waved one hand over it, causing it to go dark.

"Nice," John murmured, sitting up a little to get a better look at the desktop. "I'll bet you have the best toys in this department."

Mycroft nodded, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers together. "The very best," he agreed. "When this is over and done with, you'll have to come with me to visit our Cardiff office."

"Cardiff?" John echoed. "What's in Cardiff?"

"Quite a lot," Mycroft answered, and refused to say anything more on the subject. "Shall we have a tour, then?" he asked, standing up. John took the hint and rose. 

"Am I going to be able to find my way back out?" he asked as they walked out of the office.

"Eventually."

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

John trailed after Mycroft through the warren of corridors that opened to the high, vaulted ceiling. Looking up, John could see a system of catwalks overhead, interlaced with cables that extended in every direction.

"Is there a map?" John asked. "It'll take me weeks to figure out where everything is."

Mycroft smiled slightly. "Everyone says that. It's surprisingly simple. Your clinic is at the end of this corridor."

"I'm sorry? My what?"

Mycroft looked over his shoulder. "Your clinic. Doctor, you are here for a reason. Do try to remember that. We're currently looking for a competent nurse for you as well. Anthea has volunteered to assist you in the interim, at least when you attend to our female employees. This is the topmost level. Below us are the training rooms, the gymnasium, the laboratory, and the Hub. That is where we're going right now."

"And that would be?" John asked, following Mycroft into another elevator.

"What it sounds like. The hub of activity. It is a combination social space, conference room, and anything else that people need a large space for," Mycroft answered. He frowned, then rolled his eyes and reached into his pocket. To John's surprise, he pulled out what looked like an ordinary Bluetooth headset, which he inserted into his right ear. "I do dislike this blasted thing. But our head of security insists on having all of the upper echelon in immediate contact. We'll have to have one prepared for you."

"You have reception down here?" John asked.

"Oh, no. This is internal only." The door opened, revealing something that looked like a large, natural cavern. There were tables and chairs set up, and several people sitting or standing around them, shuffling papers and talking in low tones.

"Mycroft, this isn't..." John's voice trailed off as he stepped out of the elevator and looked up. "This can't be part of the Chislehurst caves!"

"Can't it? Come now, Doctor. You don't think they show you everything on that tour?"

John considered that, then nodded. Then he grinned and looked at Mycroft. "How close are we to where they filmed Doctor Who?"

From the tables, there was a bark of laughter, and an older man rose to his feet. He smiled as he approached, and John almost immediately classified him as "Elder Statesman." Then the man got close enough that John could see his eyes, and the "Elder Statesman" turned into "Dangerous Hunter." The smile faded slightly as the man stopped; he looked at John, then at Mycroft. When he looked back at John, the smile returned. 

"Well, you've found a live one, Mycroft," he said, his voice gravelly. From age or smoking, John couldn't tell.

"Indeed," Mycroft agreed. "You'll be working with him, Uncle. Oh, and you've already a connection to our good doctor. He's Mark Slate's nephew."

The other man laughed again, holding out one hand. "It's a pleasure, Doctor. Your uncle was an old friend of mine."

John smiled and shook the older man's hand, realizing who it was he was speaking to. "The pleasure is mine, Mister Solo."

Napoleon Solo nodded once, looking very satisfied. "I'm not sure if I should be worried that you know about me, or flattered."

"Uncle Mark thought very highly of you, sir," John said. "And your partner--"

"Speaking of, just where is your partner, Uncle?" Mycroft asked.

"In the laboratory, last I saw him," Solo answered. "Probably blowing something up. If you'll excuse me, I have to get back to the web."

"Send Olivia up when she's available," Mycroft answered. Solo nodded at John and turned away, heading out of the cavern. 

"Can't wait to meet him," John murmured. "Living legends, the both of them. He's not really your uncle, is he?"

"Oh, no," Mycroft answered. "No, someone started calling him that years back. It amuses him."

John nodded, then asked, "What does he do here?"

"Technologist," Mycroft said. "By his own choice. He refused any higher role. Now, let's get started, shall we?" That last was directed to the rest of the room, and people put down their coffee cups and rose, coming towards Mycroft and John. Anthea was there, and a young man with curly brown hair who grinned happily as he came closer. Following them was a tall, lanky blond man that John thought looked oddly familiar.

"This is everyone who could be here, Sir," the blond said, his voice betraying his American background. "'Cept for Livvy..." he paused and touched the headset in his own ear. "She's on her way."

"Very good. Everyone, this is Doctor John Watson. He'll be our attending physician and consultant on medical matters. Anthea will be setting up a schedule for each of you to have an initial examination and interview. This is mandatory. Now, if you'll all introduce yourselves?"

"Do I get real names?" John asked, looking at Anthea. She dimpled and stepped forward.

"Actually, it is Anthea," she said. "Anthea Paulos."

"An' I'm Tobe," the young man offered in a thick brogue, stepping forward to offer his hand and tripping over his own feet. "Tobias Hunter, sir," he finished as he caught himself and stood up straighter. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too," John said with a smile as he shook Tobe's hand. "What do you do here, hm?"

"Hardware, sir," Tobe answered. "I get to play with all the new tech. I'll be helping you set up the scanners in your clinic, teaching you how they all work and stuff."

"Scanners?" John repeated. "I think I'm familiar with most scanning devices that you'd find in a clinic, Tobe."

Tobe just beamed. "Not these, sir. These came from Cardiff."

Apparently, John was just supposed to know why having things come from Cardiff was important. He filed it for later, tagged "something to ask Sherlock," and turned towards the tall blond, who saluted.

"Captain, I don't think you remember me. My unit served with yours in Afghanistan, for a few weeks. You patched me up once."

"Did I?" John asked, blinking. "Sorry, I don't remember... wait, that American unit... from Texas, was it? Outside Kandahar?" 

"That was us!" the blond answered with a laugh. "I didn't think you'd remember."

"I'm afraid I don't remember you," John admitted.

"Wasn't expecting you to. Name's Moran. Sebastian Moran. Everybody here calls me Baz. I'm the security guy."

"Nice to meet you again, Baz," John said. "I hope I'm not going to be patching you up again any time soon." 

Baz laughed and clapped John on the shoulder. "Not this time. I'll get you a headset once you're settled. Everyone stays in contact, understand?"

"Of course," John said, nodding. Movement caught his eye, and he turned to see a tall young woman hurrying into the cavern. Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Tobe look away, and head towards the tables. Baz simply smiled.

"I'm sorry I'm late," the woman said as she came towards them. "We're having a time of it, getting the cameras ready for the Olympics." She held her hand out to John and continued, "It's so nice to finally meet you, Doctor. I'm Olivia. But please, call me Livvy. The only person who calls me Olivia is my father," Olivia said. She smiled, and John's jaw dropped. High cheekbones, dark hair, pale gray eyes...

Mycroft cleared his throat, "Doctor, this is my daughter, Olivia."


	3. Chapter 3

"You really didn't know about me?" Livvy asked as she accompanied John and Mycroft to John's clinic.

"I had no idea," John answered. "Of course, Sherlock didn't think to tell me that he had a brother at first. Why should he mention a niece?"

Livvy nodded. "Uncle Lock has his moments. Well, I am glad we met now. Or I might not have been invited to the wedding."

"Speaking of, Olivia," Mycroft interrupted. "Your grandmother wants you to attend the planning dinner. As does your uncle."

"He wants to see me?" Livvy asked, then frowned, "When? I've got movie night with Kate this weekend. Will is out of town again, and she managed to get a screener of that new spy picture. She wants me to point out how badly they've gotten it wrong."

"Don't give away all of our secrets, my dear. And Thursday next."

Livvy laughed, "Oh, is that why Greg wanted me to babysit? "

Mycroft's eyebrows rose. "He has the children next week? I thought he had them the week after."

"He only just asked me this morning. His ex asked him to switch weeks, he said. She had a death in the family, and doesn't want to take the kids to the funeral," Livvy answered. "If Uncle Lock wants to see me, then I should I tell him no.

"You should. We'll make other arrangements for Lucy and David's care that night."

"You get to tell Greg," Livvy said with a grin. "I'll call Grandmother and tell her I'll be there."

"Greg is coming with you, then?" John asked, smiling. "Good." He managed to wrap as much meaning as he could into that one word, and he knew that Mycroft heard everything he meant. The taller man glared at him, then murmured, "Don't matchmake, Doctor."

"I wasn't aware that I needed to," John answered blithely. Livvy giggled.

"You'll fit right in. Should I start calling you Uncle John now, or do I have to wait?" Before John could answer, she stopped and touched the headset in her right ear. "Oh, I have to get back to the web. Are you free for dinner, Papa?"

"Perhaps," Mycroft answered. "Check again after lunch."

"I'll do that." Livvy smiled and kissed Mycroft's cheek, then hurried back the way they had come. It was then that John noticed that she had a slight limp. Before he could ask, Mycroft touched his sleeve and gestured towards a closed door. John nodded and followed him into what proved to be a very nice office.

"This is yours," Mycroft said. "You can change the decor however you wish. You'll read about it in the medical files, but Olivia is sensitive about her leg. She dislikes talking about it, or having it discussed."

John nodded. "I understand that. Feel the same why. What happened, might I ask? And... why is it so ground-shaking that Sherlock wants to see her?"

"The two are actually connected," Mycroft answered, folding his arms over his chest. "Olivia used to be a dancer. She was very good. Good enough that we were hoping she would take after her mother's side of the family with regards to height. When she was fourteen, Sherlock was driving her to a class. There was an accident --"

"And he blames himself," John finished. "I didn't know he could drive. Was it his fault?"

"No," Mycroft answered. "The driver of the lorry was drunk. But Sherlock felt that he should have been able to do something more. Nevermind the fact that he'd been driving only a few months at that point."

John winced. "They were lucky they weren't both killed."

"Quite. Afterward, when Sherlock had his... difficulties, Olivia found it difficult to be around him, so she withdrew. That hurt the both of them terribly -- Sherlock always did dote on her. I've never before seen him so... patient. With anyone. He taught her to play the violin. When he thought she was blaming him..."

John sighed. "I understand. All right. This is the office. Where's the clinic?" John looked around, finding a door on the left hand wall. "In there?"

Mycroft smiled. "Go ahead, Doctor."

"Tell me, Mycroft, what is so special about scanners from Cardiff?" John asked as he opened the door. He stopped, staring, and heard Mycroft laugh.

"That, my dear doctor, is what is so special about scanners from Cardiff. Tobias will show you how to use them."

"It looks..." John stopped, then turned and looked at Mycroft. "This looks like something out of Star Trek."

"You're very close," Mycroft said cryptically, then turned as the office door opened. "Ah, here is Mister Hunter now. He'll show you how to use the scanners, and I will be your first patient."

#

The scanners provided a far more thorough examination than John would ever have been able to do with the tools he knew. Once Tobias explained how the machines worked, and showed John the procedure, John attempted a scan; Mycroft didn't even need to take off his jacket, standing on a small platform and letting John run a wand up and down over him. The wand never actually touched Mycroft, but the nearby computer lit up with information. John set the wand aside and moved over to where he could look at the screen, reading through everything.

"Tobe, how do I print this out?" he asked over his shoulder.

Tobe came over and peered over John's shoulder. "You can print it from here, or you can send it to the display in your desk by doing this. And tapping there dumps the information to the main file."

"All right. I think I have the hang of this. Mycroft, if you'll join me, we'll go over these results. Tobe, stay here. I'll see you next."

"Right," Tobe said cheerfully. He sat down in a chair in one corner and pulled a tattered paperback out of his pocket. John shook his head and went into his office, hearing Mycroft behind him.

"Are you going to complain about my weight, too?" Mycroft asked, sounding sour as he sat down in front of the desk.

"No," John answered, sitting down and looking at the screen embedded in the tabletop. "Your weight is well inside the healthy range for your age and height. I am concerned about your diet, though. Your triglycerides are higher than I'd like, as is your blood pressure. Now, the blood pressure might be due to work stress, and your cholesterol levels aren't out of the ordinary, but we will keep an eye on that. Your blood sugar is high, as well. We'll have to run a fasting test for better results, I think. Does diabetes run in your family?"

Mycroft looked thoughtful, then shook his head. "One grandparent out of four. Not a very high statistical sample."

"We'll keep an eye on it," John repeated. "How often do you exercise?"

"Not often, I'm afraid," Mycroft answered.

"I want you to start," John said firmly. "Half an hour a day, three days a week. Not necessarily all at the same time. If you can fit ten minutes in three times a day, that will do. I'll have Anthea put it into your schedule."

"Oh, come now, Doctor, is that necessary?"

John simply looked at Mycroft, the look that usually stopped Sherlock in mid-rant. "If you are serious about me acting as staff physician, then I am serious about you actually following my directions. Consider me your family doctor," he said with a smile. "You said there was a gymnasium here; I want you to use it. I'll even work out with you."

Mycroft scowled, reminding John of a child who had been told he needed to take his medicine. Then he huffed and nodded. "Very well. Is there anything else?"

"I want you to keep a food diary for the next week. Anything you eat or drink. And nothing by mouth after ten o'clock tonight. Come here first thing tomorrow morning and we'll run that blood test. Then I'll take you to breakfast."

There was a long suffering sigh from Mycroft, and John couldn't resist adding, "You asked for this, Mycroft."

"I did," Mycroft agreed. "Thank you, Doctor. I'll tell Anthea about the changes to my schedule. Let me not keep your next patient waiting."

# 

Tobias was next, jumping up onto the platform eagerly. John repeated his actions with the scanner wand, a little more sure of himself this time, then went over to the screen. What he read there made him look up sharply.

"You're HIV positive?"

Tobe nodded and stepped down from the platform. "Yeah. Got a whole list of medication and shyte I need to take. Himself is good about it, you know. Doesn't treat me like I got the plague. I just don't get to go out in active duty."

"I can understand that. May I ask...?"

"I was a rent boy," Tobe answered before John finished the question. "Lived on the streets. It was your mister that got me out, saved my neck. Saved my life, really."

"Really?" John turned and leaned back against the panel. "He hasn't mentioned it."

"He wouldn't, would he?" Tobe grinned and ran his fingers through his hair. "Nah, he used to have a bunch of us run errands for him, you know? Run and find, see and hear, be his eyes and ears. Called us his Irregulars, right? Took care of us, when he could. When he wasn't wasted himself. Back in the bad days. Anyhow, he saw I was good with fixing things, took me to Himself and he said, 'This one thinks. He needs to be off the streets.' So Himself brought me on. Cleaned me up, sent me to school. Been four years now. Got my 'A' levels, gonna go to Uni next fall. Gonna make something of myself."

John smiled, nodding. "Good for you. Come and sit, we'll go over these results."

Back at the desk, John and Tobe sat down and discussed medication, alternative treatments and coping strategies, health, diet and exercise. 

"What exactly is free-running?" John asked.

"Ah..." Tobe hummed for a moment, then sighed. "Better if I show you. Come on."

Mystified, John followed Tobe out of the office and back towards the Hub, passing through the space and going down another corridor. At the end, John found himself in the gymnasium. One wall had been set up as a rock-climbing wall, and an entire corner looked like one of Sherlock's favorite back alleys.

"Right. Watch me," Tobe said with a grin. Then he took off running, and vaulted over a railing into the mock-alley. What followed was a display of acrobatics and athletics the likes of which John had never seen before, and when Tobe returned, panting and grinning like a loon, John said as much.

"You should see Livvy. She won't let the bum leg stop her. She's really good."

"Thanks," Livvy said, coming up to them. "Doctor, it's my turn. You ready for me?"

"Of course," John answered, nodding. He turned back to Tobe and shook the younger man's hand. "Thanks for the demonstration, Tobe. You seem to have a good grasp of what you need to be doing, so keep on with it. And if you have any questions, come to me."

"Right. Thanks, Doc." Tobe grinned and ran back into the mock alley. John shook his head, amused, and turned back down the hall. 

"You do that?" he asked Livvy as they walked.

"It's good for me. If I don't stretch the muscles out, they get tight," Livvy answered. "Tobe pushed me into it."

"Good for him," John said. "Do you want to wait until we're private to talk?"

"No, everyone here knows. I assume my father told you?"

"About the accident? Yes. I assume you have a regular physician and physical therapist?"

She nodded. "Yes. And I get all the training, but not active duty."

"What is it that you do here?" John asked, holding the door open for her as they entered his office.

"Software," Livvy answered. "Well... and other things. I'm the Spider."

John just looked at her. "I'm sorry?"

"Oh. No one's told you the terminology here. I'll show you when we're done." She preceeded him into the examination room, stepping up onto the platform and waiting patiently while John ran through the examination. Livvy proved to be in excellent health, and their discussion afterward the examination turned to Sherlock.

"How is he?" she asked. "I keep wanting to go to the new flat, but... I was afraid he wouldn't see me. And after what happened..."

"He's doing well. Much better than we had any hope of expecting, really," John answered. "There's no lasting neurological damage."

"Good. I spent a lot of time watching the monitors, those first two weeks he was home."

"You watched us?" John asked, suddenly alarmed. His thoughts must have showed on his face, because Livvy blushed.

"Not like that!" she protested, laughing. "Come with me. I'll show you the Web."

Back to the Hub, then down another corridor. They stopped outside a heavy metal doorway, and Livvy tapped a code onto a panel, her fingers a blur. The doors slid open, and she led John inside, into a room that seemed to be floor to ceiling computers and screens. Napoleon looked up as they entered.

"All quiet, my dear," he said. "And this old man is tired. I'm going for coffee. Your usual?"

"Thank you, Uncle. Yes. Uncle John, would you like anything?"

John had been staring at the equipment, and jumped slightly at the sound of his name. "Nothing for me, thank you," he answered quickly.

"I'll be back," Napoleon said. He left, and the door slid closed behind him.

"There is someone here at all times. Me, Uncle Napoleon, Anthea... someone. This is the Web. Everything runs through here." Livvy sat down in the chair vacated by Napoleon and ran her hand over one of the control panels. Screens in front of her lit up, showing a multitude of smaller screens, each of them showing something different.

"This... are these the CCTV feeds?"

"Yes," Livvy answered.

"I thought those fed into the Met?" John moved closer, fascinated. "You can see all of these?"

"It takes some getting used to," Livvy answered. "And yes, they do feed into the Met."

"Then how..." he stopped and looked down at Livvy. "What kind of software, Livvy?"

She smiled up at him, "I'm a hacker."


	4. Chapter 4

John sat with Livvy for a few minutes, watching her work, struck by how much she reminded him of Sherlock, both in looks and in her temperament when she was focused on her work. After a while, Napoleon came back, and gently suggested that John had other places to be. John took the hint and left, heading back down the hallway towards the Hub.

"Hi, Doctor," Baz called as John walked into the Hub. "Coffee, tea? Something to eat?"

"Tea, thanks." John walked towards him. 

"I was looking for you. I'm next," Baz said as he passed a heavy mug over to John. John took a sip and smiled -- the tea was perfect.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," he said.

"No worries. Keeping an eye on the whiz-kid?" Baz nodded towards the hall where John had been. "Amazing what she can do with a computer. Between her and Tobe, they could take down the entire city, if they wanted."

"Good thing they're on our side," John agreed. "Shall we?"

"Sure." Baz picked up his mug and fell in next to John as they walked towards John's office. "What do you think so far?"

"That I was never meant to be a spy," John answered immediately, making Baz laugh.

"I think spies are a rare breed. Look at Napoleon and Illya, for example. Not that you will, I don't think."

"Why not?"

Baz shrugged and pushed the office door open, standing out of the way so John could enter. "They won't come to you," he said as the door closed behind him. "I heard Napoleon telling the boss -- he said he and Illya have had enough of doctors. So I doubt you'll see much of them professionally."

"Ah. Yes, my uncle was much the same way," John said. "You're... what? Thirty-five?"

"Thirty-three."

"Young to have retired from the military," John commented. "And how did an American army soldier end up serving the British crown?"

"First answer? They asked, I told," Baz answered. "Second answer? Met a nice guy here in London. He travels a lot, though. Business."

"That's a shame. To both, actually," John said, and meant it. He set his mug down on the desk and gestured to the other door. "Let's get your exam done, then we can chat."

"Right," Baz headed for the door, then stopped and looked around, puzzled. "Hey, do you smell that?"

John took a breath, and caught an acrid tang in the air. "Smells like... an electrical fire?"

Baz nodded and tapped his headset. "Tobe, we're smelling smoke down in the doctor's office. Anything on the system?" He paused, then shook his head and looked at John. "Tobe says the system reports green. Nothing--"

When asked later, John couldn't tell Mycroft what made him move, made him grab Baz by the coat and drag the taller man behind the heavy desk, but they were both under cover when the door to the examination room exploded into the office. Then it was Baz's turn, grabbing John's arm and dragging him to his feet, through the smoke-filled office and out into the hallway.

"....four, three, two, one... thank God!" Baz breathed as a heavy metal door slid into place, sealing the office off from the hallway. He reached up towards his headset, then cursed when he realized it was gone.

John looked up at the sound of running feet, in time to see Mycroft, leading the charge. The idea of Mycroft running struck John silly, and he bit down on a giggle. Then he saw the gun in Mycroft's hand; the giggle vanished, and John sat down on the floor opposite what had been his office.

"What happened?" Mycroft demanded. 

"No idea," John answered. "Malfunction? The equipment in the examination room blew up."

"No way!" Tobe protested, from behind Mycroft's shoulder. "It was perfect! I set it up just the way they taught me to! There's never been a problem with the system in Cardiff!"

Mycroft scowled, looking at the sealed door. Then he looked down at John, and his expression spoke volumes. John got to his feet slowly, and almost immediately found himself engulfed in a hug from Baz.

"That's twice I owe you for," the American said. 

"We're even," John answered. "You got me out before the room sealed. What's going on in there now?"

"Fire suppression system," Tobe answered. "It flushes all the air from the room. If you were still in there, you'd be dead."

Mycroft looked at Tobe, then back at John. "Doctor, when you're feeling up to it, I'd like a word. Mr. Hunter, please tell Doctor Kuryakin that he has some work ahead of him. This room remains sealed until he has a chance to go through it. I want to know what happened, and the cause, before the end of the day."

"I'm fine, My... sir," John answered. "If you want to talk, we can talk now."

"Very good. Colonel Moran?"

"I'm fine, sir," Baz answered. 

"Colonel?" John asked. 

"Lieutenant-Colonel, actually," Baz said with a grin. "USAF. You were close." He looked at the door and grimaced. "I liked that mug."

John shook his head and followed Mycroft.


	5. Chapter 5

Mycroft said nothing until he and John were behind the locked door in Mycroft's office. He set the gun down on his desk, sat down, then looked at John. "You're certain that you're unhurt?"

"Yes, I'm fine," John said. "You think it was sabotage."

"Yes, and so do you," Mycroft answered. "The question is, who?"

"I've been in and out of the office all morning," John admitted. "It could have been anyone. Any cameras on that hall, or in that office?"

"Yes, and Olivia is checking them now." Mycroft leaned back in his chair and scowled at the ceiling. "My brother would have found very inventive ways to murder me if I'd had to tell him you'd been killed on your first day of work. So I am very glad that you are all right. Theories?"

John considered the question, absently flexing the fingers of his left hand. Then he shook his head. "Not yet. Too many people through the office. I saw you, Tobe, Livvy and Baz today. And I was in and out of the office. I never locked the door, so anyone could have gone in there. And I'm not even sure I've met everyone here!"

"Barring Doctor Kuryakin, you've met the entire staff of this location," Mycroft answered. "Anthea left the premises shortly after you were introduced around."

"I'd hate to have to think of her as an enemy, but if I were planting an explosive, I wouldn't want to be anywhere near it when it went off," John said. 

"Unlikely. She knows how the fire suppression system works, so she knows that there was no danger to the rest of the facility."

John nodded. "All right. So, whatever it was, it could have been planted before I got here. When was that equipment set up?"

Mycroft nodded slightly. "Mister Hunter finished the installation three days ago. What are you thinking?"

"And how long ago did you tell the staff that I was coming on board?" John asked, ignoring the question.

"Only yesterday," Mycroft answered.

"That is still more than enough time for someone to get that information to Moriarty, and to receive orders," John said, and sighed. "Are you monitoring communications? Personal cell phones, computers?"

"We are, and Olivia says that she has seen nothing untowards," Mycroft answered. "You can see the files, if you like."

John cocked his head to one side. "Is she the only one who knows that you are monitoring?" he asked. "And are you sure?"

"You're thinking that someone knows?"

"And if someone knows, then that someone might have a line of communication that you don't know about."

"Or, this could have been a strike at the organization as a whole," Mycroft suggested. "Someone who took an opportunity."

John looked at Mycroft, who shook his head. "Unlikely, I do realize that. But we cannot simply jump at shadows."

"Especially since sometimes the shadows jump back," John muttered, rubbing his hand over his face. "All right. Now what? Someone tried to kill me and whoever was with me... wait."

"What?" Mycroft asked.

"I was late, getting to the examination room," John said. "Baz had to come find me for his appointment. I was supposed to be in that room when the explosion went up... and so was he."

Mycroft blinked, nodding slowly. "Whoever it is doesn't care about collateral damage. That does sound like James Moriarty."

#

_*Jimmy, what the hell was that?*_

_*It didn't work?*_

_*No, it didn't work! And it damn near killed me along with him!*_

_*Darling, you knew the job was dangerous when you took it.*_

_*....*_

_*You have something to say, my dove?*_

_*Jimmy, I swear to God, if you start calling me Fred again, I am going to spank you!*_

_*Promises, promises.*_

_*....*_

_*Anything more, Seb?*_

_*I miss you. When are you coming home?*_

_*Soon, my dove. As soon as you take care of that one small detail for me.*_

#

John and Mycroft stayed closeted in Mycroft's office throughout lunch, served to them by the newly-returned Anthea. John noticed that neither tray was at all similar -- a precaution that he knew was to ward off poisoning attempts. As they ate, he chatted with Mycroft, about the upcoming wedding, about what to expect at dinner, and about Sherlock.

"He's going to want in on this," John said, waving his fork vaguely. "He's going to read what it is that I'm doing in my shirt cuffs and in the smell of my jacket, and he's going to want to get involved."

"If he does, he will have to follow my rules. That has been enough to stop him for quite some time," Mycroft answered.

"I can imagine," John said. Before he could say more, Mycroft held up one hand and touched his headset with his finger. His eyebrows arched, and he set the cup he was holding down on his desk.

"Doctor, they've found something in the wreckage."


	6. Chapter 6

John walked up to the door that only a few hours ago had been his office, and almost bumped into an older man leaving the room.

"Excuse me," he said, stepping back and giving the other man some room. Then he blinked, licked his upper lip and held his hand out. "Doctor Kuryakin, it is an honor to finally meet you."

The older man frowned slightly, then he nodded, awareness dawning in his ice-blue eyes. He took John's hand in a firm grip that belied his appearance. "Ah, yes. You're Mark's boy. Napoleon told me. Don't expect to see very much of me."

John smiled, nodding. "I was informed, sir. If you have any need, though, I would be happy..."

"Don't push," Illya growled. Then he smiled. "I do expect a wedding invitation. For some reason, I'm fond of that young idiot you're marrying."

"Funny, I say the same thing," John answered. That drew a laugh from both Mycroft and Illya.

"What have you found, Doctor?" Mycroft asked.

"Something on which I think I would like a second opinion," Illya answered. He opened his mouth to say something else, but Mycroft cut him off.

"Absolutely not!"

"Crawling about in a debris field is a young man's job, Mycroft. And you know what he can do, what he'll see. It would take me days to discover what he'll see in a few minutes."

By this point, John knew what Illya wanted, and he was nodding his agreement. "We should bring Sherlock in. Mycroft, you know he can figure this out."

"He is not at his best right now--" Mycroft started, stopping when John slowly started to shake his head.

"You shouldn't try to use medical excuses with me, Mycroft. Sherlock is more than ready to get back to work. More importantly, I agree that he is ready to get back to work. This involved Moriarty. We need Sherlock."

Mycroft scowled. "I will never get him out of my department ever again, once he knows where we are located," he pointed out.

"Mycroft, do you honestly think he doesn't know where we are?" Illya asked, sounding incredulous. "He has met me at the door five times in the past six months, wanting my opinion on one or another of his experiments."

Mycroft just looked at the older man, then softly asked, "And you did not tell me this why?"

"Because so long as I do not violate security, what I do when I leave here is none of your concern. Sir." The chill in Illya's voice was palpable, and John found it difficult to look at either of them. Instead, he glanced down the hall, seeing the tiny light in the headset that Mycroft wore flashing green.

"Very well. On your head be it. I'll send Anthea for him," Mycroft said at length. "He's at Saint Bart's, you said?"

John nodded, not looking at them. Something... he shook his head. "Yes. Want me to go with her? He'll be more likely to drop what he's doing and come."

"No, I know what will bring him," Mycroft answered. He took his mobile from his coat pocket, tapped in a short message, then held it out so that John could read what he had written.

- _M's plant tried to kill JW. Come at once. Car will collect you at St. Bart's._

"Tell him I'm fine," John suggested. "Or he'll show up with my gun."

Mycroft frowned, added something to his message, then sent the message.

"Thought you said that you didn't have service down here?"

"Did I?" Mycroft asked. He smiled slightly. "That wasn't quite true. You do not have service. I have service everywhere."

"There you are!" John turned to see Sebastian coming down the hall towards them. "You all right, Doc?"

"Fine, thanks," John answered. "Yourself? I could always manage another patch job. We did more with less in Afghanistan."

Baz grinned. "Nah, I'm fine. I have something for you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a headset similar to the one Mycroft wore. "This is set up to only work on the internal network," Baz explained. "Turn it on here. Blue light means its functional, red light means it needs to be charged. Green light means active. Volume control underneath."

John nodded, switching the earpiece so that he could slip the headset on his left ear. "Thank you. Mycroft, how long?"

"Twenty minutes, if he comes right away."

"And do you need me for anything?" He looked from Mycroft to Illya and back.

"The room is sealed again," Illya said. "I'm off to see what Napoleon and Livvy have found."

"I'll join you," Mycroft said, and the two men left. Once they were gone, Sebastian looked at John and smiled broadly.

"So, loose ends," he said. "Want to grab some coffee? Tea? Quick shag in the blind alley?"

John coughed, startled. "Thought you said you were involved?" he asked.

"I am. But he travels so much, we're kind of open," Baz shrugged. "I know I'm not his only except for when he's in London, he knows I might pick up a bit on the side when he's away. Everyone is okay with it."

"Well... thanks, but... no thanks. I'm not... not okay with that." John tried to keep himself from stammering, but couldn't control his embarrassment. "It's not that you're not a nice fellow, but..."

"But you've got your guy at home, and you're a one-man man," Baz finished. "I thought that might be your answer, but nothing ventured, you know? Some of the people Mycroft brings in here... well, when the Captain comes down from Cardiff, it's a damned orgy in here."

"Remind me to call out when he next comes around," John said immediately. Baz laughed.

"He'd like you. You're quick. Come on, let's go get some coffee."

#

Half an hour later, John and Baz were sitting in the Hub, discussing American football over now-cold coffee. John fell silent in the middle of a question, hearing a familiar voice, only partially muffled by the doors of the lift. The doors slid open, and Sherlock swept out in the Hub. His pale eyes darted from side to side, taking in every detail. Then he stopped, looked at John, and smiled.

"John," he said. Behind him, Anthea rolled her eyes and walked away, murmuring softly, presumably into her headset.

"I'm fine," John said immediately.

"I can see that you're fine," Sherlock retorted. "Tell me exactly what happened." He looked past John, frowned slightly. "Who is this? He does know that you're engaged to be married, doesn't he?"

"Yes, he knows," John said, nodding.

"Then why is he propositioning you?" Sherlock demanded. "Especially since he's got a girl... no, a boyfriend of his own."

Baz coughed, looking impressed. "Damn," he murmured. "And I thought it was just hype." He rose and held his hand out. "Sebastian Moran. Heard quite a bit about you, Mister Holmes. Didn't believe half of it until now."

"No one ever does," Sherlock murmured, ignoring Sebastian's hand as he looked around the Hub. Baz frowned a little, glanced at John, who shook his head. Baz shrugged and dropped his hand.

All at once, Sherlock smiled broadly. John looked past him, and saw that Doctor Kuryakin had come into the Hub. To John's surprise, Sherlock met him halfway and hugged the older man.

"It is good to see you, Doctor," he said, before switching to Russian. The two men started talking rapidly, both of them heading back down the corridor towards where John's office had once been.

"Coming, John?" Sherlock called over his shoulder. John grinned, waved to Baz, and hurried after Sherlock and Illya. He caught up with them just outside the sealed door.

"Who has been inside?" Sherlock asked.

"Since the explosion? Only myself," Illya answered. "I've gone over the security cameras, and the ones inside the office were very conveniently inoperative. The ones here in the corridor showed Mister Hunter, twice that morning. Mycroft and Doctor Watson. Livvy and Doctor Watson, and then Colonel Moran, once alone and once with Doctor Watson. That last just before the explosion. The only people who were here alone were Colonel Moran and Livvy."

"Baz said that he had to come looking for me. I was in the Web with Livvy," John offered. "I imagine that Livvy was looking for me, too."

Sherlock nodded. "Shall we?" he asked. Illya stepped forward and did something that John didn't see; the door slid open, and he saw the ruins of his office for the first time. The inner door had been blown completely to splinters, as had part of the wall. There was twisted metal and charred wood everywhere underfoot, and Sherlock took his coat off and laid it on the floor in the corridor before carefully picking his way through the debris field. He stopped at the hole in the wall, looked down, then disappeared inside. John followed, to find Sherlock sitting on his heels in the middle of the destroyed room, his hands folded under his chin, frowning at the twisted metal that had been scanners only that morning.

"What do you see, Sherlock?" Illya asked from behind John.

"Whatever it was, it was planted there," Sherlock pointed. "From the spread of the debris and the angle of the larger metal fragments, I'd say no more than half a metre from the ground. Hard to say with any accuracy what was used--"

"Something you wouldn't have seen," Illya interrupted. "I tested some of the residue."

"So whoever it was has access to your laboratory," John murmured.

"Wrong, John. You can do better than that," Sherlock scolded. "Tell me what you see."

John stepped forward, eyes slightly narrowed, looking slowly around the room. On his second scan, he stopped. "Sherlock?"

Sherlock looked immensely satisfied. "You saw it. Good."

"There were two devices." John walked over to one of the other scanners. "You said the angle of the metal showed that the explosion came from over there, but this panel... if that was what exploded, these pieces here should have been bent in. Not out."

"Excellent, John," Sherlock said. "Now, where was the trigger?" He turned around again. "There had to be something that could trigger both explosions. They assumed you would be inside this room. Two explosions, they wanted to be certain that you and anyone inside with you were either hurt too badly to get out or killed instantly. They wouldn't risk either device not firing, so the triggering mechanism would have to be in the same room. Line of sight, if at all possible, with all the interference from the rock. Doctor, do you have a pocket torch?"

Illya pulled a small one from his coat pocket and handed it to Sherlock. "What we could have done with you forty years ago," he murmured.

"With our luck, the other side would have gotten him first," Mycroft said from the doorway.

"Grandfather would never have allowed it," Sherlock retorted.

"True," Illya agreed. "The Old Man was always very particular about family."

John heard all of that as if from a distance. For some reason, he was having trouble looking away from one of the pieces of wreckage. No... not the burned and twisted chair... the panel underneath!

"Sherlock, here!" he pointed, moving to pull the chair away. "It's in here."

"John?"

"Don't ask me!" John looked up and met Sherlock's eyes. "I don't know how I know, but I know. It's here."

Sherlock stepped back, looked at the panel, then nodded once. "I do believe you are right, Doctor," he said with a smile. They worked together, pulling away enough of the debris so that they could force the panel open, then Sherlock got down on his knees and peered inside by the light of the tiny torch.

"This is almost untouched," he said, his voice echoing slightly inside the space. "Conduit, wires, connections -- oh, that's novel. Tobe, you've surpassed yourself. Now, then, what is this?" He twisted, stretching until his upper body was almost completely inside the panel, then grunted slightly before sliding back out and sitting down on the floor. In his hand was a small box.

"Transmitter," Sherlock said. He turned it over. "Common construction. Parts you can get at any electronics shop. You could make one of these in your garage, if you had the knowledge."

John shook his head. "It wasn't Tobe," he said firmly.

"No. It wasn't," Sherlock said. He looked up, and John had to restrain himself from knocking the dust out of Sherlock's still-too-short dark curls. "This is too simple. Tobe could do better than this. He certainly couldn't do worse."

"What are the chances that this was all here when it came in? When the equipment arrived from Cardiff?" John asked. Sherlock looked up, then looked around.

"Possibly. Mycroft? I know your pets under the Roald Dahl Plass are trustworthy, but what happens when the equipment leaves their hands? Who transports all this?"

Mycroft was scowling, and John had a pretty good idea why. "I don't know how you know about Torchwood Three," Mycroft said sharply. "I will find out. I hate to get the Captain involved. Work does tend to slow down to a crawl when he is here."

Sherlock looked up and arched an eyebrow. Mycroft said nothing, but a soft red flush started to appear just over his collar. Sherlock looked surprised.

"Does Greg know?" he asked softly.

The red intensified. "Greg is...very much aware," Mycroft admitted. John blinked, realized what Mycroft was not saying, then looked away quickly -- this was more information than he needed about his future brother-in-law's sex life!

"Mycroft! I _am_ surprised!" Sherlock grinned and rose to his feet. He tossed the trigger mechanism towards Mycroft, who snatched it out of the air. "Now, it is entirely possible that someone planted the explosives and the trigger before the machinery ever arrived here. However, I know Tobe. He went over this equipment with meticulous care before installation."

"So he knew," John said. "Damn."

"He knew," Sherlock repeated. "And he said nothing." Sherlock frowned. "John, what time was it when the explosion happened?"

John frowned, thinking. He rubbed his chin and cocked his head to one side, then said, "Little before ten? I'm not entirely sure."

"And who was on your schedule for that time?"

"Baz was here with me... bu that's not what you asked," John said. "I never looked at the schedule. I just saw people as they came to me. Which probably wasn't the order it was supposed to be."

"So what was the order?" Sherlock insisted. "Who was supposed to be in this room, with you, at approximately ten this morning?"

In answer, Mycroft pulled out his mobile and touched a few keys. His eyes widened slightly, and he looked up.

"It was supposed to have been you, wasn't it?" John asked.

"No. It was supposed to have been Olivia."

#

 


	7. Chapter 7

"Why would someone want to kill a nineteen-year-old girl?" Illya asked the air. "No one knows she's our Spider. No one knows she's as good as she is with computers. Outside this facility, she is an ordinary university student. Well, as ordinary as one of you Holmes ever get."

John looked at Sherlock, only to see Sherlock staring at his brother. Mycroft shook his head slowly, an obviously worried look on his face. 

"Not possible," he said slowly. "There is no way."

"There is a way," Sherlock said. "You know there's a way."

Mycroft shook his head again. "No, I don't think so. Not without setting off far too many alarms. A strike at both of us, I would think."

Sherlock nodded, looking around the room. "Where is Tobe?" he asked. 

"Here, sir," a small voice came from behind Mycroft. Tobe slipped into the room and looked down. "I... I heard. You know. You know that I knew. I..." he looked up, his face pale. "He's got my mum."

Mycroft swore softly and stepped away, tapping his headset and speaking rapidly. John ignored him, focusing on Tobe.

"What made you come to us?" he asked gently.

"I heard they brought you in," Tobe said to Sherlock. "And I knew you'd find me out. So I came t' tell you, and I heard Himself saying that it was supposed to be Livvy in here with the doctor." The young man looked like he was trying not to burst into tears. "I wouldn't hurt Livvy. You know that! You know--"

"I know, Tobe. But you were willing to let John die. Why?" Sherlock asked.

"I didn't know he was _your_ doctor!" Tobe wailed. "We're getting a doctor, he said. Set up the machines, he said. He didn't tell us 'til yesterday the doctor we was getting was your doctor! I just... he said to ignore what I found, let them go, and he'd let me mum go. For my Mum, I'd kill a stranger." He wrapped his arms around his chest and drew in a long breath. "I'm sorry. I tried--"

"That's why you pulled me out to show me what free-running was," John breathed. 

Tobe nodded, "Yeah. And... when you were out here with Himself, I was trying to to get to the trigger. I knew where it was--"

"But you couldn't reach it," Sherlock said. "It was too far inside the machinery."

Tobe nodded again. "'Sright. I couldn't disable the machine, 'cause you knew it was already working. So I figured I'd keep you out of the office, but I couldn't tell anyone else, so you kept on going back."

"Tobe, how did he contact you?" John asked. 

"My phone," Tobe fumbled in his pocket. "He sent me texts. And a picture of Mum. Dunno how he knew, how he found me..."

Mycroft came back into the room. "There is a team on their way to Mrs. Hunter's home. They'll find her, Tobias."

Tobe shivered slightly. "Thank you, sir. N... now what? What gets done t' me?"

John frowned, looking up at Mycroft, seeing the flashing green light. "Mycroft, your headset is on," he said. Then he blinked. "Oh," he gasped. He reached out, grabbed the headset from Mycroft, and pulled his own off. Dropping them onto the ground, he stamped on the both of them until they were in pieces.

"John?"

"Green. The light was green," John said quickly. "Green means active." He turned, and saw the green lights in the headsets that Tobe and Illya were wearing. "Take them off!"

Tobe pulled his from his ear and threw it against the wall with a grunt; the headset shattered. Illya handed his to Mycroft, who repeated John's action of stomping it into fragments.

"Someone has been listening to us, the entire time," Illya said. "For how long?"

"Long enough to know that Tobe confessed," Sherlock said. "John, the light on your headset was green when I arrived."

John nodded towards the door. "Everyone out of the room. I don't want to risk that fire suppression system."

"It isn't recharged yet," Tobe offered. 

John nodded, but waited until they were all out of the room before he turned to Mycroft. "Sebastian is the only one who has control of the headsets?" he asked in a low voice.

"They're controlled from the Web," Mycroft answered. "But they were his idea. And he does have access."

"Is anyone armed?" John asked. He was not surprised when Illya drew a revolver from a holster hidden by his lab coat.

"Old habits," the older man explained. 

"Not complaining," John said. He slipped the gun into the waist of his trousers, then buttoned his coat and turned to Sherlock, who had put his own coat back on. "Well?"

"He might be able to tell as you get closer," Sherlock answered.

"We'll have to risk it. We have no idea if he was listening or not," Mycroft said. "Where is Livvy now?" 

"In the Hub," Tobe answered quickly. "She's relaxin' with her axe. And Baz is there, too. Mister Solo, he's in the Web."

Mycroft nodded and turned to Illya. "Doctor Kuryakin, please join your husband? Tell him to seal the Web and not to let anyone in until I give him the order."

"Of course," Illya said. He looked at the younger men and nodded. "Good luck."

"Tobe, whose side are you on?" Sherlock asked.

"Yours, sir," Tobe answered without hesitation. "I owe you."

"Good man," Sherlock said. "Go with Doctor Kuryakin."

Tobe looked startled. "But--"

"He's right, Tobe," John interrupted gently. "You told me yourself you're not active duty. You're not starting now."

"Come along, Mister Hunter," Illya said, taking Tobe by the arm. "You can look after the old men."

"Never, sir! You'd be lookin' after me!"

Illya smiled. "Glad to see you recognize that. Let's go."

They walked away, and John counted to ten before following them, hearing Sherlock falling in behind him. As they got closer to the Hub, John could hear the sounds of a violin being tuned. Then Baz's voice, "You're serious?"

"Yes. This little toy will let me play all the parts. Just you watch," Livvy answered.

At the entrance to the Hub, John stopped, watching Livvy, watching Tobe and Illya as they passed through the space and into the corridor that led to the Web. Silently, he breathed a sigh of relief -- Baz hadn't so much as batted an eye as Tobe went past. Instead, he looked up at John, waved, then looked back at Livvy, who was running through a series of what appeared at first to be random exercises on the electric violin tucked under her chin, all the while doing something with one foot. 

"Oh," Sherlock breathed into John's ear. "A looping pedal. _Clever_ girl."

"What?" John started to ask. Then he stopped as all of the random pieces fell together into a single piece of music, a melody that John recognized vaguely from having heard it in a shop. By the time she was done, Baz was grinning from ear to ear.

"That was amazing!" he crowed, clapping his hands. "John, wasn't that incredible?"

"That was," John agreed.

"Thanks. I saw it on the internet, and had to try it. I--" Livvy stopped, lowering her violin and looking past John. "Oh."

Sherlock moved up to stand next to John. "Hello, Livvy."

"I... I heard you were here," Livvy said. She looked down, slowly setting the violin down on top of a speaker. "And... you're doing all right?"

Sherlock sniffed, nodding, looking anywhere but at Livvy. "Fine," he said. "Fine. And you?"

"I'm... fine," she answered. Then she giggled. "We're a pair, aren't we?"

Sherlock smiled. "We are," he agreed. "Come here, Poppet."

Livvy smiled and hurried towards them, moving into Sherlock's arms and hugging him. John heard her muffled voice, "I missed you."

"As did I," Sherlock answered. He ducked his head, and John turned away, so as to give them some privacy. He walked out into the room.

"Doc, where's your headset?" Baz called. 

_Shit!_ John reached up and touched his ear. "I must have dropped it," he said. "We were mucking around in the mess. I should have taken it off."

"Not a problem," Baz said cheerfully. "Is it just me, or is it getting entirely too sweet in here?" He came closer and nodded toward Sherlock and Livvy, who had moved off to one side.

"Well, families do that. You should know," John said. "I bet it gets just as bad when your partner gets back in town."

Baz smirked. "Well..." Then he stopped. Frowned. Cocked his head to one side as if he was listening. He sighed, shook his head. "You know, I like you, John."

"I can say the same," John answered honestly.

"I wasn't expecting to."

John looked at Baz's headset, which was flashing green. Then he met Sebastian's eyes. "He just told you to kill me, didn't he?"

Baz was silent, then snorted out a single breath. "Yeah. He did."

"He was listening, the whole time."

"Not the whole time," Baz admitted. "He only just heard Tobe confess. And now... crap, John, I wasn't supposed to actually like you!"

"He's a very likeable fellow," Napoleon said from behind them. John stepped back, turning just enough to see the older spy standing in the doorway, aiming a gun at Sebastian. "Take the headset out, Baz. Turn it off and drop it."

John backed away, towards Sherlock and Livvy, watching as Baz reached for his headset. He hesitated, then John heard him softly say, "I'm sorry, Jimmy." Then he pulled the headset out and dropped it onto the floor. He looked up, then batted the headset towards John.

"If you tell him I'm okay, he'll believe you," he said. "It isn't off yet."

John looked at Sherlock, who shook his head. Mycroft was doing his best imitation of a statue, and offered no opinion. John sighed softly and picked up the headset, slipping it into his ear.

"Hello?" he said.

"Oh," the voice he still heard in his nightmares answered. "Where's Seb?"

"He's right here," John answered. "He's fine. He asked me to tell you that." 

"And you're going to kill him now, while I listen?" Moriarty asked.

"Of course not. We're not you," John snapped. "What we do with him isn't up to me."

There was a long moment of silence, then... "Promise me that he won't be hurt? I dealt with Garrity for you. You can promise me this!"

"Wait," John said. He turned and looked at Mycroft. "He's asking me to promise that Baz won't be hurt. What will happen to him?"

"I can't tell you that," Mycroft answered. Which John understood as 'I can't tell the murdering psychopath on the other end of the line that'. "But rest assure that Colonel Moran will be safe and well cared for. He will be completely unharmed."

John nodded. "Did you hear that?" he asked.

"I heard," Moriarty said. "When do I get him back? He's mine, and I want him back."

"I don't know," John said. He looked at Mycroft. "He wants to know when he'll get Baz back."

"Give me the headset," Mycroft said. John handed it over, and Mycroft held it up to his ear. "Mister Moriarty.... very well. Doctor Moriarty. You've played a dangerous game. You threatened my brother, and now you've threatened my daughter. Now you've lost. Goodbye." He dropped the headset and stepped on it firmly enough that John clearly heard the plastic cracking. "Mister Solo, would you please oversee the transporting of Colonel Moran?"

"Of course," Napoleon answered. "Come on, Baz. You know where you're going."

Baz nodded, slowly getting to his feet. He forced a smile. "Thanks, John. I'll... see you." Then he grinned and added, "Kinda wish you'd said yes."

John watched as Napoleon took Baz away down another corridor, then took a long breath and asked the air, "What time is it?"

"Time to go home," Sherlock answered. 

#

Anthea walked them both out, and offered them the car; Sherlock refused. 

"There's a good Thai place not far from here," he offered by way of explanation.

"Ah, yes," she said. "They are good. We have an account there. Tell them that Anthea sent you."

"Thank you," John said.

She smiled. "See you tomorrow," she said, and walked back into the building.

They started walking, neither saying anything until John finally broke the silence. "He sounded... I don't know. He sounded like he really cared."

"He doesn't," Sherlock said firmly. "He's a psychopath. He doesn't care about anyone or anything."

"I'm not sure you're right, Sherlock." John shoved his hands into his pockets and sighed. "I liked Baz."

"I know."

"Can't believe he tried to kill me."

"He didn't," Sherlock said. "He was there to make sure it happened. But he didn't plant the explosives."

John considered that as they turned a corner. "You're right. If he'd known, he wouldn't have been in there with me. Or he'd have left me to die."

"He was with you?" Sherlock asked.

"When the bombs went off, yeah," John answered. "I pulled him under cover, he got me out before the first system sealed the room."

"Moriarty almost killed his lover, then. And you think he actually cared--"

"Wait for me!" A clear female voice rang out from behind them. John and Sherlock both turned to see Livvy coming towards them.

"What are you doing?" John asked as she caught up with them and looped one arm through Sherlock's.

"Having dinner with my favorite uncles?" she offered. "So, what did you think of your first day, John?"

"Is it always like that?" John asked.

She grinned. "Oh, no! Sometimes, it gets exciting!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The music that Livvy plays is this: http://youtu.be/HrKHAsnkF8A  
> His name is Bryson Andres. Look him up on Youtube. He's sensational!


End file.
